Great Expectations....Fulfilled!

I had a wonderful Christmas, despite being horribly ill all weekend. More to come (pictures included!) just as soon as I'm able to type a complete sentence without getting distracted by my cold medicine stupor.

A Thank You Letter. Of Sorts.

So, I was hiding in my bed this morning when you called. I was still in a sleep stupor, so I opted not to answer. I started to wonder why you might be calling, since you've never called in the morning, and I thought, "Hey, maybe she's calling to tell me that they closed the office building for some reason. That would be nice..." Then I thought, "Dammit Kim, quit making excuses and get your ass out of bed!" So, then I took a shower, and remembered it was Friday, so I didn't feel guilty about putting on my favorite ratty jeans for work...Then I remembered that I'm going over to Nick's for dinner tonight, so I packed my favorite comfy pants...then I was waiting for the bus, and I listened to the message that you left...and it was such a great way to start my morning! I didn't even get bent out of shape when the person sitting next to me was so close that we were touching, which usually really bugs the hell out of me! Then...then I defied your thoughts on what a good person I am! So, the seat on the other side of me, the one that was not occupied by The Person Who Was Sitting So Close That We Were Touching? You know the one. Well, that seat had a few red and green candy sprinkles on it. A guy boarded the bus and took that seat without looking first, and I didn't say anything to him about the sprinkles, because, well, if you're going to ride public transportation, and you don't look at the seat before you sit down, you deserve what's coming. Then he got up at his stop, and I giggled a little inside...he had sprinkles stuck to his pants...then I giggled a little more inside when I thought to myself, "Cupcake Butt!". So, you see, I'm not nearly so good a person as you would like to think.

In Retrospect...

Not such a great idea to paint while drinking, as the roller has a tendency to get out of control. I have purple outlets and light switches in my dining room now. Oh, and purple smudges on the ceiling.

Shiny

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Future in Speech Writing

A Baker's Work Is Never Done
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

I reckon that Plan A ain’t workin’ out so well, so let’s move to Plan B and get ‘er done. What we’re gonna do is, build us a cookie army, and beat the tarnation outta The Evil Doers. (i.e. “Baby Jesus Haters”).

Karma's Blessings

Got a PROMOTION! Got a PROMOTION! PROMOTION. PROMOTION.

Hee.

The Final Chapter - Brilliant

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

This was Brady's take on the situation. I love him and his mad photoshop skills!

Progression Of Boredom.

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Below you will see a series of pictures depicting the boredom that has overtaken my group at work. We came in this morning to find a butter knife covered in jelly, lying on the floor by the refrigerator. The rest of the images don't really need explanation.

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Shake Yer Money Maker!

I was listening to NPR last night, and they were covering a story about virtual reality games. They interviewed a guy who plays War Craft. Apparently you can sign into the game network, and your character wanders around the environment, interacting with other people who are playing on the network. One of the goals of the game is to collect gold and weapons, such as swords. The interviewee was saying that this particular aspect of the game has become a money-making scheme of it's own. Apparently if you obtain gold or weapons, you can sell them on Ebay for actual money. Trading virtual currency for dollars. Amazing.

Of course, it doesn't end on Ebay. From the NPR website article:

There are individuals and groups in Asia and Eastern Europe where people are paid a very low wage to play characters for long hours -- with the sole purpose of making virtual money that will later be converted into real money.

The farmer's character will try to make the most amount of money during his shift -- some are rumored to have quotas. In order to do this, the characters perform certain tasks that are guaranteed to make money -- killing monsters that drop large amounts of money, and going on quests that yield valuable in-game items like weapons and armor.

The farmers then sell their items through online sites.

Anyone else find this strange, and maybe even a little frightening???

Turkey Shmurkey.

I love stuffing. It's my favorite part of Thanksgiving dinner. I would even go so far as to say that I love it more than canned cranberries. (I like them from the can.) Right now, I'm sitting at my desk, eating a bowl full of stuffing. I thought it would make a nice lunch, and I was so right.

Survey time! What's your favorite Thanksgiving food item?

A New Level Of Awesome

Apparently farting in bed automatically grants you an honorary penis.

Who knew?

Memories That Haunt Me, Part 2. (OR – Put down the frying pans and butter knives and BREATHE.)

I guess I need to clarify a few things regarding a previous post (part 1, duh.) Apparently there are those of you who now think that my entire childhood was a dreadful experience. Let me say now that this is not the case. I did have some good times, and I also had bad times. I certainly was not trying to insinuate that all of my negative experiences were a result of one person’s actions, and I definitely wasn't trying to encompass my entire early life in that one post; I don’t think anyone could do that in 5 small paragraphs. I was simply sharing a memory of one specific afternoon.

I like that my website creates an emotional response. I want people to feel something when they read what I have to say. I would prefer a happy or even sad response, but I can run with anger too.

Please know that I will never apologize for the content of my website. I put a lot of thought into my entries, and they’re all a part of who I am. I enjoy having this medium to put myself out there for everyone to see, but sometimes honesty can take us down unexpected paths. Part 1 took most of a week to get just right before publishing – I hope that no one thinks I take this task lightly.

With that, enjoy my website. Laugh. Cry. Gnash your teeth. But please don’t pass judgment.

An Open Letter

Dear Peanut Gallery,

The drama you're creating is really adding to the traffic that my site receives! As much as I love the added readership, it’s getting a little out of hand. Let me outline a few points for you.

Most importantly, we’re not in high school anymore, m’kay?

Please don’t use my website as a vehicle for bringing general nastiness to light. Only I get to do that. I love comments, and I value every opinion, but being that I am the administrator of my website, I reserve the right to delete comments at will. I like having the comment option available for the fun and witty things, but I’m not interested in any cutting remarks, especially when they aren't about the specifics of the original post.

On that note, please limit your comments to the subject at hand! You're more than welcome to disagree with anything that I post on my website. You can even express your disagreement by way of commenting; Just refrain from being nasty, of course. It’s not the disagreement that bothers me. What bothers me is your tendency to bring other subjects and people into the conversation, which might not belong there.

I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate randomness. By all means, leave a comment that says “Applesauce” after this post. However, I have to politely ask you to knock off the passive-aggressive bullshit.

Since I’ve stopped allowing anonymous commenting, you obviously have your own blog. If you can’t follow these simple requests, maybe you should stick to posting in your own space.

Thank you!

Here We Go Again

Holiday baking orders are coming in at full speed! Usually I keep track of orders on a pad of legal paper, which has always made me just a little bit insane. So, to make things harder for myself, I decided that post-it notes were the way to go this time around. Monday I received about 5 Thanksgiving pie orders, a Christmas party order for 6 dozen cookies, and promises of 2 rather large Christmas basket orders. It's not even a full week before Thanksgiving yet, and I'm already trying to decide which days in December would be the most strategic for taking vacation from The Job That Pays The Bills, so that I have time for all of this baking! Yesterday, as I was trying to organize all of this on the piece of paper that resides IN MY HEAD, I thought the same thing that I think every year during the 3rd week of November. "What the hell have I gotten myself into???"

Post-it notes aren't cutting it anymore.

I made an Excel spreadsheet in an effort to obtain some sense of organization. I have everything broken down by order and grocery shopping requirements, listed in chronological order by date.

Okay. Hold on. Did you read that last part? I actually wrote out grocery lists for each order, and figured out the date that I need to go shopping for ingredients for each individual order. Then, I put all of this information on AN EXCEL SPREADSHEET.

Chillin'

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

My %*#!$&@ Computer Won't Work, But My Eyebrows Look Fantastic!

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Memories That Haunt Me, Part 1(?)

I'm coming to terms with some memories from my childhood. There are people who would say the best route to resolution is "forgive and forget", but for now I'm just working on admitting that I've been hurt. I may never come to forgive those who helped create my worst memories, but I'm okay with that.

I remember when I was 11, and I went to live with my aunt for what would come to be 4 years. My mother came to visit shortly after I had moved in, and I was so excited to see her. She arrived, and as an 11 year old who felt incredibly displaced, all I wanted to do was be near her. Even if I wasn't part of the conversation, just to be in the same room, sitting nearby, was a great comfort at the time.

Unfortunately this feeling was short-lived, on account of my cousin's need of a playmate. She must have been about 6 at the time, a great age difference to an 11 year old. Needless to say, the last thing I wanted to do was play "dress-up" or "Barbie" that afternoon. Said cousin was less than pleased with my lack of interest in playing that day, and in being true to form, went to her mother to have the situation straightened out. My aunt insisted that I play with my cousin. I had learned early-on in my transition, that any resistance to my aunt's wishes was reason for an "attitude adjustment" so I reluctantly went to the basement play-room with a very contented cousin.

I didn't see much of my mother that day.

I haven't thought of this day in quite some time, but the other morning I woke up and it was the first thing on my mind. I remembered it so clearly, and the familiar feelings of resignation flooded me. I laid in bed and cried that morning like I haven't in a very long time. It felt so good, but so very draining at the same time. At that moment, it was perfect.

I don't really know why I posted this. I guess it's been on my mind all week, and I needed to get it out. Maybe I just needed to put it out there to say, "I can be hurt and survive." I don't know what the reason, but it feels good.

Happy Halloween!

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

It's Stuff! On Cats!

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Saturday Afternoon

Saturday Afternoon
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

The Last Hurrah
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

This was the final picture taken last night. I feel like ass today.

Lookin' Up, Kim Style

Sanity
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

I'm feeling a bit better. This changes from day-to-day, but for now, I'm feeling pretty good. Last night when I arrived home, I was greeted by a lovely bouquet of flowers, complete with a Halloween card. Yes, I said a Halloween card. It made me smile. The best part was that inside said Halloween card, in the midst of many nice things, it said "Happy Hump Day". I love that card.

So that was nice.

I decided to make myself a nice dinner. My usual staple of "easy meal" took a new fabulous turn when I made a quesadilla with cheddar, pepper jack, smoked cheddar, feta, fresh oregano and chopped tomatoes, all grilled up in a frying pan. I decided to cook it slow, so that all of the flavors would have time to meld, and I could relax a bit before devouring my meal.

Just as I turned the burner on, Heifer started to eat my flowers. Well, not the flowers, but the green stuff. He loves the greenery in a bouquet. So, I'm trying to wrestle with him, when I notice Cricket scooting across the tile floor on her butt. She does this sometimes, and usually I find it amusing, but about the time she hit the carpet, I realized, there are poop streaks all over my hallway. Leave Heifer to continue eating my flowers. Pick up Cricket in football grip, so as not to get poo on my clothes, and head to the bathroom. Sit down on the toilet and investigate. Crickets ass and surrounding fur are covered in crap. HOW DID SHE DO THIS???? I went to work...First with toilet paper, then upgraded to an old rag with warm water. I must say, she did very well, considering I was pulling at the hair around her asshole. Poor thing.

Cricket's clean, I'm clean, Heifer's demolished most of my greenery. Quesadilla is ready to flip. Perfect timing. I can do this! It's the Poop Ballet!

Flip quesadilla, decide I really want a glass of wine, knowing that I only have a few bottles, which I've been saving for a special occasion. Decide to celebrate my sanity with the most expensive bottle that I own.

So very very worth it.

EFF You, Tom Cruise, And I Hope That's Exactly What Katie Holmes Says When You Try To Keep Her From Medicating Her Post-Partum Depression.

Alright. We're off to a good start!

You might not hear from me for awhile. Well, unless something really funny happens, like someone falling on their face while trying to board the bus....That's just funny, People.

Those of you who know me even a little bit, know that I blush easily. It was always really fun when I was 15 and my 3 older sisters would take turns randomly saying "SEX!" to see just how red I would turn. Well, luckily I've gotten over that, because I have some pretty socially ungraceful friends. Whenever I blush, everyone gets a big kick out of it. "Hey everybody, look how red Kim just turned!" "Oh my god, even her arms are red! Look!" Nice. Well, the blushing thing isn't fun anymore. Now it's turned into full-blown anxiety, and I don't have any way of explaining why the hell I feel the way that I do on a daily basis.

On my last post I told about being asked to run a meeting. That was on Monday of this week. I had a little chat with my boss yesterday about that blog post. She's assured me that I would never be forced to do something that makes me uncomfortable. She said that I'm great at my job, and that I continually impress her with my ability to take on new projects and even create them on my own. I know all of this, but I still can't shake that feeling. Let me say that I love my job. I do. I enjoy what I do and I value those that I work with. I truly have it made in the job department. In spite of all this, I couldn't go to work this morning. I couldn't deal with this horrible fear that something might happen that would make me uncomfortable.

Since Monday I have spent every afternoon trying to keep myself sane between bouts of nausea. See, I know, logically, that the meeting conversation was just an offer made in case I might be interested in running a meeting but hadn't spoken up. No biggie. However, in my crazy head, it's become a looming threat. "What if someone of higher importance wants me to run a meeting one day? Will they think less of me if I say no? Will they understand that I just can't do that sort of thing? When are people going to start noticing that I'm not actually good at my job??? Am I just going to fall through the cracks and be one of those useless employees who manages to stick around through the years? Do they already realize that I'm not good at my job, and I just haven't made that revelation yet???"

Welcome to my world.

Everytime that someone stops by to visit the person sitting in the cube next to me, I listen to their hushed conversations and become engulfed in an unwarranted paranoia that they might be talking about me. Logically? Well, I know that I'm really not that important, and even if they are talking about me, who really cares. But the reality is that I'm convinced that they are, and regardless of what they're saying according to my created scenario, it makes me feel horrible.

Now, some of you might be thinking, "Gee, Kim, I know you like your job and all, but is it really worth all this trauma?" You're absolutely right, and if it were just about work, I would take some serious action. Enter Exibit "Mind Fuck":

1. I've stopped letting my cats outside because I'm absolutely convinced that one of them will get hit by a car. Now that they are inside all day, I sit at work and worry that something will happen. "What if my little Hiefer jumps up on the counter, and when he jumps back down, a knife falls on him???" This isn't just a passing thought. I dwell on this all day.

2. I started having night terrors about 2 months ago. I wake up absolutely terrified for no reason. I feel as though someone has been holding me down, and I am so scared, that I can't even scream. This has led to a fear of someone entering my apartment. When I get home from work in the evening, I engage all 3 locks on my door. Sometimes I sleep on my couch so that I will wake up more quickly if someone tries to get in at night.

I had an appointment for an annual girly exam today. I love those. I especially like it when they rub my cervix with that bristle brush. Good times. So, the nurse came in to take my blood pressure. Everything's fine. We chatted a bit about why I was there. No big deal. The first mistake was her leaving me there for nearly 30 minutes waiting for my doctor. In being true to form, my mind started to wander to horrible things. "What if she finds something wrong???" I finally got control of that, and thought, "Y'know, maybe I should talk to her about all of these things that have been bothering me so much. I might have an anxiety disorder. Maybe some medication would help keep me balanced." Seemed like a good idea to me. But, the story doesn't end there, of course...what fun would that be?? "What if she wants me to start seeing a counselor? What if I need something more immediate than that??? What if she prescribes drugs, and they make me feel worse? What if I find something that works, but I have to take 5 other drugs just to deal with side-effects???"

Isn't this game fun?

My doctor, who I absolutely trust and adore, walked in the room, and gave her usual cheery hello, to which I respond with a fit of crying. I finally calmed myself down, and started to tell her what had been plaguing me for the past 2 months. Apparently this crying business actually works, as my doctor has diagnosed me with "Generalized Anxiety Disorder". Do you know what this means? It means that I'm scared shitless of everything that could happen in the confines of my head.

I'm taking a very low dose of anti-anxiety medication. With the small amount that I'm taking, we should be able to catch any reverse or side-effects before they get out of hand. Yes, I'm a little scared, but I have to believe it will be worth it, because I'm so tired of feeling this way. I don't know if any of you have dealt with depression or anxiety, but it's absolutely exhausting.

I hate that I have fears just like everyone else, but rather than letting them pass I dwell on them all day. I hate that I love my job but I'm afraid to go there. I hate that I love my apartment, and until 2 months ago I wanted to spend every moment there, but now I'm so fearful and uncomfortable when I'm there.

I have to believe that this will help.

A Whole Lotta Shakin' Going On

During a meeting I had with my supervisor awhile back, I expressed an interest in becoming more comfortable with public speaking. Since that time, I have had a small moment of standing in front of a limited group. Yes, I was bright red and nervous the entire time, but I did it. Looking back, it wasn't that big of a deal, considering the subject matter and the members of the small group.

Recently I was asked if I would be interested in running a conference call meeting. I just started laughing and told her absolutely not, under any circumstances, will I ever be interested in running a meeting. Ever. Said person reminded me that I wanted public speaking opportunities, to which I responded, "Yeah, well I just changed my mind on that."

See, standing in front of a small group of people that I know very well is pretty intimidating for me. Running a meeting? Paralyzing. I don't mean to say that it makes me nervous, I mean to express that the mere thought of doing such a thing scares the living hell out of me.

Example A:

Today I was sitting at my desk, working as usual when my mind started to wander. I had created a scenario where the Big Boss Man asked me to present something during a meeting. Nothing big, just a contribution that I would be able to make to a Large. Group. Of. Important. People. By the time I came back from this little day dream, I was just about beside myself, tearing up, bright red, and even shaking a little.

Don't ask me for another example. I'm all worked up just thinking about Example A!

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

These shoes are pure torture, but so very very hot.

Left For Dead...

So I look in your direction,
But you pay me no attention,
And you know how much I need you,
But you never even see me.

~Coldplay

Carlos
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

I've decided that naming my own photos is boring. So, from now on, when I post a picture on my blog, let's everyone leave a comment with a name suggestion. Sounds fun, right?

Ready? Okay!

Nothing Good To Say

I remember a day not so long ago when commuting by bus meant a 20 minute ride to work. This morning it took 45 minutes. 45 minutes!!! My commute has actually been a bit worse every single day for the last month. I left my house half an hour early, and still showed up to work 15 minutes late. This is normal traffic, people! There aren't any accidents or stalled vehicles. This is simply me trying to get over a damn bridge along with everyone who can't figure out that new-fangled merging process, or the meaning behind the term "bus only lane".

I don't have a car, which is probably a good thing considering how annoyed I get on the road when I'm not even driving. So, my options are limited to slowly moving toward being an hour late for work every morning, or catching a bus an hour early just to get to work on time. This is merely guess-work. For all I know, I'll still be late even if I catch an earlier bus.

I'll keep you posted.

Worse Than Britney

President Bush says he takes responsibility for the federal government's failures in responding to Hurricane Katrina. - CNN

I'm not pregnant! Oh, wait, yes I am!

Fall in Seattle

Fall in Seattle
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

New Favorite Website - Nicole in London

Thank you to Nicole in London for providing a link to the Katrina timeline. Very interesting.

Pick Your Battles

I donated to the Red Cross on Monday. I was checking out at Safeway and the clerk asked if I wanted to donate, so I did. I didn't ask her about the different causes that Safeway supports, or what the company's political stance was. I didn't ask because it doesn't matter. I wasn't donating money to Safeway; I was donating money to help the people who need assistance as a result of a natural disaster.

I understand having political/moral convictions, but get over it. I'm tired of seeing people choose their donation service based on the other things that said service accepts donations for. I've even seen someone making another feel bad because they made a donation without knowing the entire background of all of the causes that a donation service supports. "Sure, they're a legit operation, but they take money for those crazies at PBS. Did you know that Big Bird is the DEVIL? DID YOU???" Starbucks is taking donations. You can walk right up to the counter, and make a donation. They have a special SKU in the register dedicated to taking Red Cross donations. Oh, but did you know they support the GAY AGENDA??? That's right. They're marketing for those crazy gays. Before you know it, Starbucks might start a HOMOSEXUAL PROSTITUTION RING.

On second thought, better not donate via Starbucks. Who knows what else you might be supporting.

I have to say I'm really bothered by people who turn everything into a political argument. Yeah, a lot of people really fell short when the hurricane hit. Unfortunately there has been much unneeded suffering as a result. Well, I'd say it's about time to stop with the finger pointing and just take care of the issue at hand. There are lots of people out there who don't have time to sit around while we sort out this business of who is at fault.

I think Mighty Girl puts it best:

Thank you to all of the countries who have offered that help, especially those of you who have put aside political differences to do so. Thank you Canada, Cuba, Venezuela, Saudi Arabia, Dominica, Russia, France, Japan, China, El Salvador, Israel, Paraguay, the U.K., the United Arab Emirates, the Netherlands, Honduras, Germany, Venezuela, Jamaica, Australia, Switzerland, Greece, Hungary, Columbia, The Dominican Republic, Mexico, South Korea, New Zealand, Guatemala, Belgium, Singapore, Sri Lanka, Italy, Guyana, Indonesia, Austria, Lithuania, Spain, Norway, and the Bahamas. We're humbled by your compassion.

Downtown Seattle. No, Really
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Too Much!

http://kittenwar.com/
http://mycathatesyou.com/
http://catsinsinks.com/

Hard at work...

Hard at work...
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Finally.

The Stranger is a local independent paper in Seattle. I love their liberal outlook on political subjects. The joys of being independent - you can say whatever the hell you want. Part of an article that came out yesterday:

George Bush has one more day, if that, before his administration’s response to Hurricane Katrina becomes a huge political disaster...Bush will visit New Orleans tomorrow, and if the scenes of anarchy in the city continue up to and through his visit, he is toast. He has one more day.

I don't know about all of you, but I'll be anxiously awaiting the reports of how that little visit went today. Anyone taking bets on whether or not Bush will be wearing a vest???

In other frightening news from The Stranger:

The week kicks off with news of the most fertile high school in America, straight outta Canton, Ohio. Today the Canton Repository reported the startling findings regarding the city's Timken High School, where of the 490 female students, 65 are with child. Further fright is supplied by the Canton Health Department, whose statistics reveal that of the 586 babies born this year at Canton hospitals, 104 were produced by girls between the ages of 11 and 19. "School officials are not sure they know what caused so many pregnancies," reports the Repository.

I honestly don't know which is worse, the situation, or the response by the school officials!

What Have We Become?

CNN Breaking News:

New Orleans hospital halts patient evacuations after coming under sniper fire, a doctor who witnessed the incident says.

So, I know it's been awhile...

I realized today, as I was posting yet another photo on my blog, that this has become a bit of a photo blog. Not intentional, I just haven't had much to say lately. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, it just means that my life hasn't been very interesting lately. Oh, I've been entertaining, yes...I've even resorted to sticking my tongue out in my sleep, and last night I made myself a little bit ill with Oreo cookies, but that's about as exciting as it gets for me these days.

I haven't had any complaints sofar, so I assume that everyone enjoys the photos...feel free to let me know if you miss the text. I may or may not pay attention.

Circus From Hell
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Corporate Pizza

Corporate Pizza
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Putting cheese pizza under a stack of 12 other pizzas isn't a great idea.

Dream Big!

Saturday night I dreamt about showing someone how far I could stick my tongue out. I woke up licking my chin. So glad no one saw that.

Play Time
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Mysterious Trees
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

The Morning After
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Digital camera? Check. Crazy party? Check. Mirror first thing the next morning? Check.

HA!!!
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Well, there was a band, and beer...and by the time I took this picture, it was dark outside. What can I say?

Birthday Class
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Here's a picture of Jenny. There's no denying this girl knows how to party in style.

Would ya cut the cake already???

I went to Portland last weekend for two of my sisters' birthday. One turned 29, the other 30. When all was said and done, everyone had a fabulous time. There was a band and beer. Lots of beer. Really, there wasn't an excuse to be found for not having fun. Among the highlights of the evening:

1. Overhearing one of my sisters, "When he drinks, he gets aggressive...sexually."
2. Dad telling everyone that I have a foot fetish. Which I don't.
3. Family friend puts his arm around me, and says, "You're a lot hotter when I'm drunk."

Ta-da!

Pictures to follow...and not of that, perv.

The wheels on the bus

The wheels on the bus
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

5????

5????
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Just when you thought it could get no worse...

GAH!!!

GAH!!!
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

This kitten is so freakishly cute, that I want to scream!

Language Arts. Or, the art of my foul language.

I've come to realize that I say the eff word a lot, and think it even more. Take this morning, for example. I'm walking along the sidewalk, and I see a man come out of a garage door opening on the side of a building. I keep walking. He sees me coming. He just watches me, while I continue on my path. Down the sidewalk. The sidewalk that runs parallel to the building. The building with that garage door. I'm walking in front of said garage door, when I look over to see a forklift coming right at me, full speed. The guy driving the forklift honks at me, after I'm out of the way. I gave the first guy a dirty look, but I don't think it had much affect on account of my sexy sunglasses. That's alright...what I was thinking...what I was really thinking behind that dirty look which was behind the sexy sunglasses was, "Thank you, Sir. Thank you for telling me there was a fucking tractor coming at me all ready to sever my shit off. Christ."

This is just one example of why I'm certain to see all of my wonderful, yet heathen friends in the afterlife.

She's Such a Betty.

H: John and I were having a discussion about the definition of a "Betty" yesterday.
Me: And what did you come up with?
H: Gwen Stefani and Missy Elliott would be Betties. Britney Spears? Not so much.
Me: So, what's the definition?
H: Y'know, a girl who's tough. Someone who's not afraid to take care of themselves.
Me: A girl who's not afraid to smoke a cigar?
H: Exactly.
Me: I wonder if I could be considered a Betty? At least an Up-and-coming Betty, maybe.
H: Definitely. You're the best kind of Betty. You're a Betty who cooks.

Punchline.

Punchline.
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

You see this? Yeah. This is QFC single-handedly justifying that dent in my bank account.

Just Cuz

City Reflection
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Here's a picture I took in Vancouver earlier in the year. I think it's a pretty neat shot, even though it wasn't taken with my spiffy new camera.

Mmmm. Paella!

Mmmm. Paella!
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Need I say more?

Data Bitch
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

This is The Data Bitch. I feel pretty confident in this assessment. I'm sure I first heard the phrase either from The Data Bitch himself, or from The Data Boss.

The things that I see

Data Beast
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Here is the first picture on my new camera! I'd like you all to meet The Data Beast. The Data Beast should never be confused with The Data Bitch.

Girls and Their Toys

I've recently discovered that I have a weakness for last minute, expensive purchases. There was the bike earlier in the year. Not a bad price for a nice bike, but still.

I'm going to Portland this weekend for my sister's birthday, and really didn't want to lug around my heavy Nikon with it's assortment of lenses. So, I did what any "I don't care to pay rent this month" type would do, and I bought a new digital camera today during my lunch break.

Yes, I bought it at Office Max, and yes, it really does rock the socks. 4.1 megapixels, baby! Sure, I had to ask what that meant, but I DID know that it was better than all of my friends' cameras. That's right. I'm better than all of you. Get over it.

Pictures to follow...

That's what I've been talking about!

Pinwheel, pinwheel, spinning around. Look at my Pinwheel and see what I've found.

Pinwheel, pinwheel, where have you been? Hello, how are you, and may I come in?

Pinwheel, pinwheel, spinning around. Look at my pinwheel and see what I found.

Pinwheel, pinwheel, breezy and bright. Spin me good morning, spin me good night.

No Points For You!

I went out last weekend to see "Hot For An Old Crusty Musician Type" and his band. At the end of the night, one of the guys I had danced with asked if I would be interested in going out sometime. He was nice, and could dance, so I agreed to exchange numbers. I got a call from him last night. At 10:30 PM. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Knowing how charming I can be when I'm half asleep, I sent him off to the land of voicemail, so he could talk to someone who was interested.

This morning someone told me that I should call him back at 6am. Imagine all the possibilities! "I'm sorry, but I don't think this is going to work on account of our conflicting schedules. That, and I don't have room for another dumbshit in my life right now. But hey, best of luck to you!"

Cooking Lessons Needed

Yesterday I was talking with one of my friends and she was telling me about her successful egg boiling experience. She started telling me how she followed the directions exactly, and I thought, "I didn't know that there were directions! You mean boiling an egg isn't just tribal knowledge????" So I went home after work and looked in my favorite cookbook, and sure enough...directions for boiling an egg. And do you know what else??? I've been doing it all wrong.

Where's that damn rock when I need it???

Y'know when you meet new friends, and you really enjoy hanging out with them? Y'know how you usually try to be nice, so they'll like you back, and want to continue hanging out with you?

If you read those last two sentences, you might be led to believe that I understand this process.

The other day I was hanging out with a newly acquired friend, and he was telling me a story about a recent grocery shopping trip. Apparently he was having a hard time finding the corn, and finally had to ask for help. When the clerk took him to the corn, he realized that the reason he couldn't find it was that he was looking for the color yellow. When he told me that last part, I reacted without thinking, "You're such a moron!" Luckily my new friend has a good sense of humor about the whole thing. Otherwise, I'm sure I could have found a way to roll my tongue up into my mouth, and pull my lower lip over my head.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

CANDY!!!!

GHAAAAAAA

Sorry, Kids. No more anonymous comments. I'm learning first hand about a new form of spam. Anonymous commenting. In the last few days I have received several anonymous comments which read something like this:

Reading your blog and I figured you'd be interested in advancing your life a bit, call us at 1-206-339-5106. No tests, books or exams, easiest way to get a Bachelors, Masters, MBA, Doctorate or Ph.D in almost any field.Totally confidential, open 24 hours a day.Hope to hear from you soon!

Awesome, no?

Product Placement

Y'know when you're at the grocery store, and there are always "impulse buy" items hanging on little racks along the aisles? The other day I saw toy handcuffs hanging by the condoms. Those crazy kids working at QFC sure do know how to have a good time!

Spreading The Word

I received this email today, and it's really a pretty fantastic idea. Since I have many readers who's email addresses I don't have, I thought I would post the information here.

ICE - In Case of Emergency

A campaign encouraging people to enter an emergency contact number in their mobile phone's memory under the heading ICE (In Case of Emergency), has rapidly spread throughout the world as a particular consequence of last week's terrorist attacks in London.

Originally established as a nation-wide campaign in the UK, ICE allows paramedics or police to be able to contact a designated relative / next-of-kin in an emergency situation.

The idea is the brainchild of East Anglian Ambulance Service paramedic Bob Brotchie and was launched in May this year. Bob, 41, who has been a paramedic for 13 years, said: "I was reflecting on some of the calls I've attended at the roadside where I had to look through the mobile phone contacts struggling for information on a shocked or injured person. Almost everyone carries a mobile phone now, and with ICE we'd know immediately who to contact and what number to ring. The person may even know of their medical history."

By adopting the ICE advice, your mobile will help the rescue services quickly contact a friend or relative - which could be vital in a life or death situation. It only takes a few seconds to do, and it could easily help save your life. Why not put ICE in your phone now? Simply select your person to contact in case of emergency, enter them under the word 'ICE' and the telephone number of the person you wish to be contacted.

For more than one contact name ICE1, ICE2, ICE3 etc.

Rockin' the Casbah

Traci!!!!
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

I haven't mentioned Traci in quite some time. Yes, she's still on my list of neat people. She just moved in to a new place right by mine...and she has a CAR. You know what that means, right? Grocery shopping, people!!! Traci and I went shopping together yesterday. We were both planning to get a lot of stuff, so we each had our own cart and we followed each other around the store - It was the Great Shopping Caravan!

The other day I needed Traci to move some pictures from her digital camera to a disk for me. I don't know if it was intentional or not, but she included a few extras. For your viewing pleasure....TRACI!!!

Making Dad Proud

My dad was in town this weekend, so we went downtown on Saturday night for some live music. Dad is pretty fun to go out with, on account of his tendency to buy rounds of tequila shots. Of course, once that kicks in, the dancing starts...and usually doesn't stop until the music ends. The reason for this particular outing was to see a blues guitarist named Nick Vigarino, who my dad has seen on several occasions. When we got up to leave, Nick thanked us for coming. He shook my dad's hand, looked right into his face, and said, "You're daughter's a total fox!"

Woop it up!

Happy Birthday to my little brother Nathan today! He's the grand age of 8 already! I was thinking there might be a way to record myself singing happy birthday, so I could set it up as background music when you open my page...but trust me, it's much better this way.

View from my livingroom

View from my livingroom
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Here's another view from my livingroom - this time complete with water! It's nice in the mornings when the fog hasn't burned off, watching the ferry boats floating around.

View through a screen

View through a screen
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

My new apartment rocks socks, people! Here is a view from my livingroom. Unfortunately there's a bit of a window screen issue, but you get the idea.

It's all inside

Most of the people I work with are surprised when they find out how young I am. I don't want to do anything to jeopardize that view, so I'm really putting an effort into refraining from doing the following:

-Run down the aisle squealing "It's my birthday on Sunday! It's my birthday on Sunday!"
-Pirouette in front of random colleague's cubicle.
-Pirouette again.
-Resume running and squealing.

A new chapter

My cell phone was stolen on Friday. Kindof. I lost it somewhere, and when I called my carrier, they found that it had been used to send text messages that afternoon. So, I have a new one. It's a lot cuter and smaller than the old one, probably on account of the fact that the old one was free when I opened an account. Things have changed in the last 3 years!

I was definitely due for an upgrade, I just wasn't counting on being forced into the change on the same weekend that I was scheduled to move. Not only was it an additional financial burden, but I was in the midst of arranging moving parties, and I didn't have a phone. The girl from TMobile was absolutely fantastic, and she offered to ship my new phone via Air Express free of charge, but I still wouldn't have a phone until Monday or even Tuesday. Luckily my good friend Don came to the rescue, letting me borrow his extra business phone, so all was well again. I still had to call around to my landlord, moving friends, moving company, etc. to give the temporary phone number, but I was relieved that I was able to reach out to people.

So, I have a new phone. And a new apartment. I love my apartment, and I'm slowly getting used to my phone.

Oh! There you are!

I'm back! Hopefully this will help resolve some of the drama in my life. Welcome to my new home! As you may have noticed, comments are back, baby! Now Sean can resume enjoying my mother's comments, and the 'Anonymous' friend that I invited over can resume yelling at me when I don't post fast enough.

Please excuse our mess

'Musings of a pastry case' will be temporarily unavailable on account of recent nastiness and threats. Please tune in next week or the week after, depending on when the dust settles.

God Bless Us, Everyone!

Thank you for the nice words.

I've received several emails since my last post, some from friends, some from people I don't even know. I think its fabulous that in the middle of all the hate and ugliness, there are still people with nice things to say, who will go out of their way to say them.

Side note - 'Anonymous' who ruined everyone's fun is not the same as "Post Post Post!!!" 'Anonymous'. This entry is dedicated to the latter. More than one word, even!

All good things must come to an end

Unfortunately I have been forced to remove the comments option from my blog, kids. It appears that my anonymous "friend" isn't such a great friend after all.

Hey, Anonymous...yeah, You. In case you weren't aware, this is MY turf, and I am god. Next time you're going to post a comment somewhere, try to make it less obvious that you don't care to understand what you're talking about. Oh, and if you're going to make especially mean statements, be sure to have the balls to give your identity.

To everyone else - if you really can't cope with the lack of comment opportunities, or you just want to say "Hey, I appreciate the things you have to say", or "I really dig your brother's story - fab, baby, just fab!", feel free to email me - a link to my email address is located in my profile.

Worth Writing Home About

I recently received a package in the mail that made my week sunny and nice. My little brother and sister sent me some artwork they had created, and my brother sent a story he had written.

For everyone's reading pleasure, my almost 8-year-0ld brother's story! (If you're good, I might let you see the artwork at a later date...)

Brass was a beetle who had black wings and was two stories high. One day he was looking for roses to eat. He was looking deep into the forest. Suddenly, he came upon an old old city. There was moss covering every building and there were no people. Suddenly, Brass found what he was looking for, sweet smelling red roses. Then he found a deep twisty hole under the rose bush. So he ate a rose. Then a ghost came out of the hole! Then Brass spit the petals out! Then he ran into one of the buildings! So the ghost raced after him! Then the ghost was right beside him. The ghost said, "Boo!" Then Brass smashed into a wall and it broke to bits. Then brass said, "Ouch!" So the ghost said, "Boo!" Brass turned around, went through the doorway, ran through the forest and all the way home. He never ever went back again. He lived happily ever after.

The end.

Worst weekend EVER.

I've had a horrible 3 days. The finer points:

1. Apparently my privacy and comfort levels don't mean shit to some people.
2. Apparently if you intentionally make decisions that will make my life difficult, it just means that we have different priorities, and I need to learn to deal.
3. Apparently storing your stuff somewhere means that you "live" there, and anyone who thinks differently best recognize.
4. Apparently Skagit County jail sucks. Bad. ("Apparently" is the part which signifies that I had nothing to do with it, Mom.)

On a positive note...Woodinville is a pretty short drive from Seattle, and the wineries aren't so bad. Washington state has a standard which requires that reserve wines only include the top 10% of the fruit. Grand reserves are only 1%. Washington is the only state that has any such standards, and if word gets out that you aren't following along, it makes people wanna bust a cap...That, or they just make it pretty difficult for you to acquire things like bottles and corks.

Something New.

Happy?

Spiders Have Taken Over My House.

You think I'm kidding.

I woke up at 11:30 last night with a spider crawling on my arm. I must have been really sleepy, because I didn't immediately fly out of bed. In fact, I sat up and actually contemplated going back to sleep without investigating. "There was a spider crawling on your arm, you (expletive) twit! Turn the light on and do something about it!" It was a very "Get up, Trinity. Get UP!" moment. I turned on the light and found a small, but fat, black spider hanging out by my pillow. Caught him. Flushed him down the toilet. Somehow managed to fall back asleep.

This morning as I was contemplating how I could possibly go to work without having to get out of bed, I noticed another spider on the ceiling. This one was brown and skinny. Skinny, yes, but not any less freakish than the fat black one. I looked at this spider on the ceiling, and thought, "Hmm. I'm not tall enough to reach it. Maybe it will go over to the wall so I can catch it." As the spider started crawling across the ceiling, above my bed, I thought, "What if it dropped? What if it dropped right now?? No, wait. What if it dropped right as it reached the space above my head???" I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when it reached the space above my head, and actually dropped. Shrieking and throwing of blankets ensued.

Mornin'.

Unexpected

Calm can be a funny thing. We convince ourselves that it's the reaction we want, but it has the ability to make things feel worse.

Reality Check

I recently came to the sudden realization that I'm turning 25 in two months, and I'm not doing what I thought I would be. I've been doing a lot of re-evaluating.

I always fancied myself as the girl from the movies who uproots herself and runs away to live in another country.

Of course, I know it's the romance of it all that I find attractive, but I feel that I'm not as adventurous as I always thought I would be. I watch myself living in the suburbs, getting up every day to go work at a desk in an office building, and I think, "This is not my life! Who's freakin' life am I living???"

I hate the thought that this may be all I'll ever do, y'know? I've kept myself from branching out by convincing myself that I'm "tied down" with my job, bills, and other responsibilities. Now I'm starting to realize that I was just hiding behind those things so that I wouldn't have to approach the "unknown".

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate feeling secure in my job, and having a nice place to come home to, but I don't want to end up in my 30's, wondering why I didn't explore other possibilities. I've had conversations with older friends who talk about how they don't like the direction their life has taken, and that they haven't accomplished some of the things they'd set out to. I remember having these conversations and thinking, "That won't be me; I'm going to embrace life and the opportunities that I have to explore other things." Now I'm starting to realize that I'm not far off from those friends, age or mentality-wise, and I don't want to end up with the regrets that they have.

I think I'd like to save up and go somewhere in a year or so. Just take off and live somewhere strange and non-touristy for a few months. A "Self Discovery" of sorts. I'll have enough saved up to pay rent while I'm gone, and I'll schedule an extended leave of absence from work.

Running away from it all, responsibly!

Do not try this at home

So, when I blow my nose, I get paranoid about leftovers, so I always have to look to make sure that I've done an adequate job of cleaning things up. Yesterday I locked myself in a bathroom stall for the initial sinus flushing, then I went to the mirror to check on my progress. As I was lifting the end of my nose to look in my left nostril, my finger slipped, and I jabbed myself in the eye.

At first, I was in a state of shock. "I can't believe I just did that!" However, my amazement was soon replaced by really intense pain, and then the waterworks started up.

Unlike the underwear conversation of a few weeks ago, I did not divulge too much information this time! Even though I only told my coworker that I had poked myself in the eye, he still made fun of me.

Not for the weak - Lots of italics coming your way.

I've been sick for the last 2 weeks, and quite frankly, I'm starting to feel a little broken. Sometimes I hear about people getting sick and how their sickness ends up being more than they bargained for. You know how it is...I'm sick with blah, and as an unexpected result, this happened. That's what my sickness has been like, except this time, I got hit with all of the unexpected results.

Things started off innocently enough - a slight sore spot in the back of my throat; Itchy ears. The next morning I had a full blown sore throat. A few days later I was stuffed up, and then the next day I started coughing. Not just a cough...but coughing stuff up. Gross.

A week later I went to the doctor because I was still feeling like hell and leaving work early every other day or so. Lucky for me (and him), this particular doctor is really good at seeming to give a damn about how I feel, so that was nice. Unfortunately, I no longer have a silly little cold. I have a sinus infection.

So, now I've missed nearly a work of week all together, I've paid for a doctor's visit, and a prescription for antibiotics. I've finished my bottle of Nyquil by now, so I have to get more. This is getting quite expensive.

Matt dropped my prescription request off on his way to the gym, and called to let me know it would be ready in about 30 minutes. An hour later I still had not left for the drugstore, because I was still sitting on the toilet. It wasn't that things weren't happening initially, but things stopped happening just short of being productive. It was right about then that I realized, I haven't pooped in 3 days. Luckily Matt and I have been together long enough that I can make silly requests such as, "Hey Honey, would you mind running to the store real quick to get me some strawberry ice cream? Oh, and while you're at it, why don't you pick up an enema?"

Well, we got that disaster under control. I finally got to a point that I didn't think I would need Nyquil to sleep, but after last night I realize that I've come to depend on it for sleep.

I forgot to take acidophilus when I started taking my antibiotics. I have the worst yeast infection ever. Ever. This is coming from someone who would know what the worst ever should be like. So, now I'm popping supplements like candy, in hopes of catching up and realigning my system.

I equate the last 2 weeks to the following:

I'm in an airplane and I've just gotten used to the bumpy flight when I hear, "Attention passengers. This is your pilot. It seems that we're about to enter the eye of the storm, so I ask that everyone fasten their seatbelts and remain calm while we ride this one out." Shortly thereafter we nosedive and crash in the middle of a war zone. I regain consciousness just in time to hear, "Fiiiiiire in the hole!"

I've come to terms with the fact that I'm bound to acquire another more annoying ailment. I'm just having a hard time preparing myself for something worse than fire in the hole.

And it slowly sinks in...

The other day I was part of a conversation about the benefits/downfalls of dating someone who is religious, when you're not. Someone piped up that they had dated a Mormon once. I thought to myself, "Wow, I think this guy takes the corruption cake with that one." Then I thought further..."Wait. You're gay."

So when do you suppose it hit the other guy? "No matter how much I pray; No matter how many goats I sacrifice, I'm never getting my planet back."

Making the world uncomfortable, one colleague at a time.

If one of your coworkers asks how you're doing today, and you, being the funny person that you are, say "Well, I'm not wearing underwear, so I'm sure it will be a fantastic day!", and said coworker doesn't immediately start laughing, it would be a good time to start apologizing and offering to buy lunch.

Is HR in on this???

The company that I work for is really big on diversity, and I'm always getting "group communication" emails inviting me to brown bag lunches or workshops which are designed to promote diversity. We've got the Martin Luther King thing down like nobody's business.

Last week everyone received an email invite for "Understanding White Culture". As we were all trying to absorb what we were reading, we heard a faint voice across the expanse of cubicles, "Oh yeah, I nearly forgot - April is Cracker Awareness Month!"

Lesson learned.

You know the compressed air you can get for cleaning your keyboard? Never, under any circumstances, should you use said canned air to deal with static in your skirt.

Please disregard the previous statement if you want your upper thighs and crotch to be encased in ice, and therefore outlive the rest of your body.

Of course, if nothing else, it's highly entertaining to see your colleagues fall out of their chairs from laughing so hard.

I do NOT have PMS, you bastards!

Why is it that people on the bus feel the need to sit close enough to me that we touch arms? I fucking hate that! I am not a large person, and neither are you - there's absolutely no reason for us to be touching! This has been happening on a daily basis, with a variety of riders. People are gross. Don’t touch me if I don't know you!!! I'm tired of having to sit against the wall, with my outside arm across my chest. I mean, which is worse - touching another person, or touching part of the bus?

And another thing.

Why is it such a pain in the ass for people to rinse out a milk jug and toss it in the recycling? This morning I went to make my latte, and there were *4* cartons in the refrigerator with tiny bits of milk in the bottom. This also happens a lot. Apparently if you see that there isn't enough milk for an entire drink, you're supposed to just ignore it and open a new carton. This doesn't usually bother me, but this morning, as I was busy emptying the first of *4* cartons into my pitcher, I nearly got sick from the smell…then I realized the expiration date on that particular carton was April 01. What is wrong with people????

I should write a book. Musings of a Corporate Peon: A Tale of The Peons Who Make My Life a Pain in The Ass.

Do the whale thing!

Beluga
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

After Matt and I went to the Vancouver aquarium, he perfected a really fantastic Beluga whale impression. Matt pulls his arms to his sides and flaps his hands while he bobs up and down, keeping a very peaceful smile on his face the entire time. I laugh hysterically every time he does this. It's so funny, in fact, that I make him do it for people all the time. Not because I want to embarrass him, but because I think everyone should get to know the hysteria that is Matt.

I ruined a good thing.

Easter Sunday we were at his mother's house for dinner, and we started talking about our trip. Of course...Perfect segue to the Beluga whale impression! So, Matt, the obedient boyfriend that he is, stands up to start doing his act. Before Matt gets a chance to show off his newfound talent, his mother starts to tell a story about her Beluga whale experience. Please keep in mind that we had enjoyed some wine by this point.

"I went to the aquarium and saw the Beluga whales one time. There was one whale off in the corner amusing himself by bobbing around. He must have been really enjoying himself, because he had an erection the entire time!"

Matt refuses to do his Beluga whale impression now.

Email of the day!

I wish I could write Christmas letters like this.

Friends and Family,

We all have lofty aspirations in life, and I am proud to announce I have attained a lifelong goal that I once thought was merely a fantasy.

Yes, I am proud to say I am now a resident of the beautiful greater Federal Way, Washington area.

Aghast with envy you might be, I know. Sure, you North Sounders have your lakes, your arts communities, your BMW's and two car garages.

But I have chosen a different path, a path wrought with the exhaust belching from the rears of an endless line of 1980 Chevy Citations and 1984 Buick LeSabres, a path lined with 17 Office Depots, 42 Radio Shacks and 187 Teriyaki joints, a path that I affectionately refer to as "320th Avenue South." And at the end of that path lay my own slice of heaven, my own nirvana if you will. It's the Arco Gas Hut on the corner of 320th Avenue South and Pacific Highway. If there is a greater place to be on this earth at 4:26 AM on a Tuesday morning, please let me know where it is.

Sure, go ahead, laugh. I laugh as well, to tears of remorse each and every day, but have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, you didn't ever take the time to learn about the real Federal Way? I know how you snotty North Sounders are. I used to be one.

Have you ever thought that, hey, perhaps Federal Way can offer it's residents superior community services? Maybe Federal Way provides a relatively unknown yet vibrant cultural scene? What about fine restaurants, and institutions of higher education? Did you ever think to yourself that maybe Federal Way might offer any one of these things, or could even offer all of them at once?

Well, before you go jumping to conclusions, let me answer that question for you.

It offers absolutely none of these things.

Not even a tractor pull for God's sakes.

Just so you guys can have a little more information on my new hometown, I took some time and compiled some interesting trivia about Federal Way, and now I would like to share that with you.

A Detailed History of Federal Way

Federal Way used to be a highway. Then there was a Kmart. Then some guy opened a sword shop. Then some people got shot. Then some fat guys built a freeway exit. Then the people demanded places that offered quality donuts at reasonable prices. And today, Federal Way is a really good place to be if you find yourself in the market for a laundry hamper.

And that's what happened. Quaint, isn't it?

Here's some more information I curtailed from a book called "Reasons You'll Love Federal Way!". Actually, it's not really a book, it was more of a leaflet. A really small one, stuck on my doorknob. Half of the leaflet was reasons I'd love Federal Way, the other half was a coupon for 10% off Cheese Bread at one of 56 participating Federal Way area Domino's Pizza outlets.

FEDERAL WAY, WASHINGTON

Defined: Federal Way is a derivative of an ancient Klickitat Tribe term "Federah Whaya Hye", which, literally translated, means "Hey, let's dump all our shit here."

Population: 121,723
Number of Pedestrians hit by cars in 2004: 121,723

Unemployment Rate: 99.9%

Primary Industries: Strip mall construction; Mattress sales; Thuggery; Loitering; Abandoning cars; Production of unwanted children; Welfare Disbursement offices; Narcotics.

Educational Facilities: DeVry institute, Scuba Division. Dress Barn Training Center. Washington State DUI Victim's Panel Conference Center. Getting beaten up on the street.

Official Federal Way color: Tar
Commentary: Tie between Tar and Suffocating Exhaust, which I did not
know was a color.

Official Federal Way bird: Pigeon
Commentary: Apparently this only applies to a pigeons with a beak. They are protected. If you run over a pigeon with a beak, you will be sentenced by a judge to spend 15 minutes in Sea-Tac Mall.

(Editor's Note: Oh, excuse me. It's no longer "Sea-Tac Mall." Now it's "The Commons at Federal Way", or "Downtown Federal Way." Which is like giving George Bush a sparkly wand and a princess hat and calling him "Peacekeeper." No matter what you call it, you still don't have to buy bullets down here. Just walk around the mall for a while and you'll be full of them. There's even a police station in the mall. Didn't get that? I'll say it again. There is a police station IN the mall.

Official Mascot: Food Stamp Freddie
Commentary: Food Stamp Freddie wanders aimlessly around Federal Way because he is unemployed and waiting for his welfare check. Wears oversized Raider jacket, and he's a Crip motherfucker, so don't you start steppin' to him.

Official Flower: Grime-covered decorative shrub with beer can in it. It's outside Arby's on 320th.
Commentary: For the love of God, don't eat at Arby's.

Official Flag: Surrender.

Local High School: Federal Way High School, home of the Federal Way Societal Burdens. The football team plays half-heartedly in the first quarter, then waits for the government to bail them out. All seats in the stadium are in Section 8.

The Official Motto of Federal Way hasn't been decided yet, but it has been narrowed down to ten finalists.

"Federal Way: Lamp Shades Always 20% Off."

"Federal Way: We're Sort Of Kind Of By The Airport."

"Federal Way: At Least We Ain't Burien."

"Federal Way: Where Anyone Can Be Better Than 95% of the Population, and Also Get 2 Free Tanning Sessions!"

"Federal Way: You Just Stepped In It."

"Federal Way: Dashing Your Dreams Since 1972."

"Federal Way: City of Hopes and Fears. Okay, Mostly Just Fears."

"Federal Way: Get Knocked Up by the Time You're 14."

"Federal Way: Urban Blight 365 Days a Year."

"Federal Way: Birthplace Of Wilbur Fortknee, 1974 US Enchilada Eating Champion."

Federal Way provided me with a wide array of apartment and condominium options to choose from, and some came without bars on the windows. I chose an "apartment community" called Cove East, whose sole purpose for existence is to deceive you into thinking that you aren't in Federal Way anymore. This is done with an amalgamation of visual tricks, such as trees, a big pond, and even a fake river. Seriously, I walk out of my "condominium-style" apartment, and there is a river, right there, for me to fall into.

For those really into nature, Cove East also provides an ample supply of violent, water-based fowl, whether you prefer perpetually angry and aggressive geese, or simply intestinally challenged ducks whose innards are unable to congeal their excrement into any type of solid, removable waste product, so what comes out is essentially the consistency of yogurt, yet with the adhesive qualities of Elmers Glue, so it just basically just sticks to my porch like a Van Gogh painting on a concrete canvas.

I've realized that management in my community cares little about the bird problem. They manage everything here except the ever-increasing proliferation of pond birds. In fact, the property is littered with signs supporting their continued evolution.

"Don't feed the ducks or the geese!" the signs scream. "Feeding the ducks and geese human foods will make them very sick, and they could die!"

And then it shows a picture of a sad goose. A sad goose? I know that goose doesn't live here. Most the geese here carry chainsaws.

Um, correct me if I'm wrong here, but isn't killing the geese the ultimate goal? Do we, as a community, want to remain ankle deep in stringy white goose turd? I think not. I do believe we should change the signs. "Please, oh, please, community members!" it should bellow, "Please feed the ducks and geese chili dogs, frozen pizzas, canned okra, and macaroni and cheese. Feed them paper clips, plastic packaging waste, hot wings and Eggo Walnut Waffles." This, at least, would get them out of the pool area.

Yes, the pool area. That has become the Baghdad of the Cove East bird population. Sure, they have a humungous pond the size of a football field to live in, complete with lily pads, reed banks and flowing streams. But where do they choose to reside? In the community swimming pool of course, which is right next to the pond. The geese own the pool, and mark their territory by shellaqing the pool deck with an amount of goose poop that is only exceeded by the amount of goose poop actually in the pool. Occasionally, the ducks, who act as the insurgents of Cove East Pool Area, will try to break into some pool space, but the geese attack and feathers fly. I could make a living stuffing pillows on the pool deck at Cove East. But anyways, I digress.

I've ascertained that the using word "community" here is really pushing it though, because generally people in my "community" stare at me with suspicion and contempt, usually from their porches where they can't ever seem to find the time to ooze their obese asses off of. I feel like I'm guilty, and I haven't even done anything. Then I decided to steal a bike, so then at least my guilt won't be unfounded. I think I stand out as one of those "city boys" with "one of dem collar thingys on his shirt." Maybe they are just startled that I have a job, or, more likely, they're just really high on spray paint.

Moving in was quick and painless, in the same sense that getting eaten by a shark is quick and painless. IKEA selected and delivered an unintentionally two-tone computer desk, which may have worked in the 70's, but not today.

Two-tone would not work, you see, because I chose to make all the furnishings in my apartment white, along with my white carpets and white walls, thinking that women would believe I’m a modern, progressive man. Instead, it just makes it easier for them to inspect my apartment and tell me where all the dirt is. Which is good, because living in a white apartment, I am actually forced to clean it every 12-16 hours. Normally, I'd probably do it every 12-16 months.

Lastly, I would like to thank the good employees at Comcast Cable and Internet Services, and offer my prayers that your corporate headquarters will someday release you from the barn you are housed in. When I called Comcast I said "Hey, can you guys come hook up my new 'ultra-modern white condo-style apartment'" (I was trying to impress them.) "Sure!" they said. "Can you be there tomorrow?" They must have been impressed that my apartment was all white.

So they came the next day, and the guy went through the usual routine of pretending like he was really busy "hooking up" my cable, when indeed all he was doing was flipping a switch. Then he left and my modem didn't work. "Gosh darn" I said, "what an unfortunate situation I find myself in."

Actually that's not what I said.

So I call Comcast and say, "Hey, the guy just left, and my modem is broken." "No problem," said the cheery, um, woman, at Comcast. "We can have someone come out there and fix it for you." (Silence). "In two weeks."

I said "Wow, how unfortunate I got stuck in this predicament."

Actually, that's not what I said.

So after verbally flogging the poor girl, I got it down to eight days, which they term "emergency service".

And just because of that, I'm going to become a fireman. And when their customer service center catches on fire, they can call me, yelling "FIRE! FIRE!" and I'll calmly say, "Well, I can come help you with that fire. Can you be there between noon and 6 pm 13 days from now and show me where the fire is?"

The moral of the story is the same one you learn from your gym. Once you sign on the dotted line, they don't care about you anymore. It's like getting married, only not as bad.

So having no cable service, no computer, and no TV, I spent a few days looking at the wall in my apartment. It was white.

Anyway, I'm at work, with a lot of time to kill on this slow night. I have to go actually "work", so I'll cut this short before Random House publishes it. (Next week, rather than write a notice, I will be sending you all a handcrafted origami aardvark.)

You can still contact me at (xxx) xxx-xxxx, unless I owe you money or just pretend to like you, in which case I was run over by an unmanned wheat combine last Monday.

So, if any of you are unlucky enough to ever be in Federal Way for a court appearance or a laundry hamper or something, or if you just happened to get into a head-on accident in the I-5 area, feel free to drop by my place, and if you bring any mud in, I'll be really pissed.

Later.

Mike

Wow. Just......wow.

Matt and I went out for dinner on Tuesday night at this really great place in West Seattle called West5 - they have fantastic macaroni and cheese. After we finished dinner, I got up to use the bathroom. I don't know about the men's restroom, but the women's has one freakishly large stall, and one freakishly small. The large was in use when I walked in, so I decided to brave the smaller of the 2. When I closed the door, it was about 2 inches away from my nose. I'm surprised I was able to sit down without hitting my knees.

The girl in the other stall was singing. Seriously.

Just as I was noticing that my feet stuck out from under the stall door, and realizing that the other girl was able to see my shoes as she was leaving, it got very dark in the room. She had turned the light off. She hadn't seen my shoes.

There was a brief moment when I could have yelled, before the door shut behind her. I was thinking "Say something! Yell Kim!!", but nothing came out. I just sat there in the dark. There weren't any windows in the bathroom. It was really freakin' dark, and I was in a tiny stall. I reached my hands over and found the toilet paper dispenser. Frantically turning the roll, I realized I couldn't find the end of the roll. Oh my god. I started to freak out and thrash a little bit.

Think Kim. Think. Maybe I should just start yelling. No. I'll just sit here and wait for someone to come in and then I can thank them for turning the light back on. No. Maybe I can waddle out of the stall and turn the light on, then run back to the stall before anyone sees me. No. Dammit.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Scenario: You're in a restroom at an eating establishment. There are two stalls. DON'T TURN THE LIGHT OFF!!!

I do what the voices tell me to

I have a tendency to come up with very convincing arguments for staying in bed when I'm half asleep. These arguments make perfect sense during that brief moment it takes to press "snooze", and they make for very entertaining reflection once fully upright. This is the progressive conversation I had with myself this morning; No joke:

6:35am: "They prefer it when I don't get up until 7:15." Snooze.

7:14am: "My alarm cycle won't coincide with 7:15. I'll wait until 7:20, because I have to make sure that I get up on an even 5 minute mark." Snooze.

7:20am (fully upright): "Who the hell are 'They' and why would they care if I get up before 7:15???"

I swear to god I must have been abducted by aliens at some point.

Say it like you mean it!

There are times that I wish I hadn't given this url to my family. I mean, I love my family and all, and I think this is a great way for everyone to keep up with what I'm doing, but sometimes I wish I still had to send out a long email once a week. Heather is the creator of one of my newfound favorite websites. She is married with a daughter, and she has a fascinating way of telling funny stories about her boobs and constipation. She also curses more than anyone else I have met (in person or in writing). She inspires me.

I've had the desire to express myself by way of vulgarities, but I have to limit myself to "damn" or "ass" for fear of offending loved ones. Sure, there's the strategically placed asterisk, but that option always seems to convey a cuteness that I'm just not in the mood for.

Have you kissed a leprechaun lately?

Are you wearing green today?

No. I'm wearing totally hot shoes, so I'm exempt.

They must be pretty hot if you're exempt from wearing green.

Oh, they're hot. So hot as to be impractical!

That's pretty hot!

Riding in style

I have a new bike! Matt and I went shopping yesterday to see what was available, and I came home with one! I can't wait to get a basket with plastic flower decorations and some streamers! Look out pedestrians! Weee!!!

Modern technology takes a turn for the worst

mattkim
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

I finally figured out how to post pictures on my blog. I rock. And Matt rocks too, as you can see.

Wha???

dirtyheifer4
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

One of my cats, Heifer, is a beautiful black and white long-hair variety. Unfortunately, he likes to roll around in dirt. He came in the other day completely covered in dirt. So covered in dirt, in fact, that when I patted him on the side, a cloud of dust formed. Last night was even better. He was covered in dirt, as usual, but this time there were bits of tree stuck all over his fur. I wish I could attach a little camera to his collar so I could see exactly what he does when he goes out!

I aint movin' for nobody!

I was laying in bed on Sunday, determined to stay there until a ridiculous hour of day, when I heard one of the cats mewing outside of the bedroom window. Matt was in the livingroom getting ready for work, so I called the landline from my cell phone, and asked him to let the cat in. He had the nerve to call me lazy! Me! Lazy!

Email of the day!

Thanks, Jenny for the fun read!

Creation Story

In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth, and populated the Earth with broccoli, cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow and red vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.

Then using God's great gifts, Satan created Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream and Krispy Creme Donuts. And Satan said, "You want chocolate with that?" And Man said, "Yes!" and Woman said, "and as long as you're at it, add some sprinkles." And they gained 10 pounds. And Satan smiled.

And God created the healthful yogurt that Woman might keep the figure that Man found so fair. And Satan brought forth white flour from the wheat, and sugar from the cane and combined them. And Woman went from size 6 to size 14.

So God said, "Try my fresh green salad." And Satan presented Thousand-Island Dressing, buttery croutons and garlic toast on the side. And Man and Woman unfastened their belts following the repast.

God then said, "I have sent you heart healthy vegetables and olive oil in which to cook them." And Satan brought forth deep fried fish and chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained more weight and his cholesterol went through the roof.

God then created a light, fluffy white cake, and named it "Angel Food Cake," and said, "It is good." Satan then created chocolate cake and named it "Devil's Food."

God then brought forth running shoes so that His children might lose those extra pounds. And Satan gave cable TV with a remote control so Man would not have to toil changing the channels. And Man and Woman laughed and cried before the flickering blue light and gained pounds.

Then God brought forth the potato, naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition. And Satan peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy center into chips and deep-fried them. And Man gained pounds.

God then gave lean beef so that Man might consume fewer calories and still satisfy his appetite. And Satan created McDonald's and its 99-cent double cheeseburger. Then said, "You want fries with that?" And Man replied, "Yes! And super size them!" And Satan said, "It is good." And Man went into cardiac arrest.

God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery.

Then Satan created HMOs.

Thought for the day:
There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.